'Winter occurs once a year, more often than not between fall and spring....
     It is actually caused when the Earth is knocked out of its orbit and travels to the rim of the solar system past Pluto where it is pretty cold, like almost absolute zero (which is really cold, almost as cold as in Alaska).... In various nordic regions of the planet, like Canada, Finland, Russia and Zimbabwe, small white objects have the annoying tendency to fall from the sky, in replacement of rain.'
     It's amazing how literarily active some people are, and how they find time to write voluntary entries for popular internet encyclopedias such as Wikipedia. But it's even more astonishing that the internet includes extensive mock worlds, such as uncyclopedia.org. Look up 'winter', and you'll find the above definition (which, I confess, amused me slightly one cold morning).
     I'm thinking about winter because, as I write this, 'real' winter has finally arrived in Helsinki. As 2006 gave way to 2007, an impassioned debate about global warming coincided with a mild and snowless early winter.
     Richard II, 'the son of York', was to melt away the trials and tribulations of the winter like the sun. A Google search turns up 1.2 million results for the quote: it is applied to everything from football, cattle-raising, Iraq and Palestine to the British Labour party and the state of petrol prices. Since Shakespeare, winters have always been, from some perspective, 'of discontent'.

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I'm also thinking about winter because it crops up so much in this issue of Books from Finland: Toivo Pekkanen's short story, 'The faraway island' (see page 35), depicts two schoolboys dreaming of an island that sparkles in the distance with a million diamonds in the winter sun like a frozen Shangri-la.
     Many of the photographs by Petteri Kokkonen (see page 43, and the cover of this issue) emphasise the whiteness of winter and the blackness of dogs. The writer and keen gardener Mari Mörö philosophises in her frozen realm (see page 39), where her numerous subjects hibernate. And in Lapland, winter is long; in the first in a series of articles, the literary scholar Janna Kantola sets out to discover what the Sámi literature is now like (see page 48).

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The internet, full of both hogwash and information, interests the columnist Jyrki Lehtola (see page 50) as a new forum for free people: not without irony, he explores the pros and cons of the growing number of myriad blogs.
     Surfing on the net today, I found out that in the United States young people aged between 15 and 24 spend eight minutes daily reading (and anything readable in printed form counts), whereas more than three hours are consumed by the television and computer.
     I quite like this definition of literacy (as drafted by UNESCO): 'the ability to identify, understand, interpret, create, communicate and compute, using printed and written materials associated with varying contexts. Literacy involves a continuum of learning to enable an individual to achieve his or her goals, to develop his or her knowledge and potential, and to participate fully in the wider society.' It seems to contain everything that matters in human communication.
     Since illiteracy hasn't ceased to be a serious problem in the world, those eight minutes appear somewhat dismaying.
     According to Reading at Risk: A Survey of Literary Reading in America (a report by the National Endowment for the Arts, 2004), less than half of all Americans read literature (any work of literature - even one poem — of any quality during the past 12 months counts). Reading affects lifestyle: literary readers are much more likely to be involved in cultural, sports and volunteer activities than non-readers.
     Hmmm... it is literary reading, then, in particular, that 'enables us to participate more fully in the wider society'.

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The sun! The sun!.... The crocuses have flowered and one / snowdrop. The bear rages in the forest, writes the poet and psychiatrist Claes Andersson (see page 80). Having realised that you cannot get rid of writer's block by trying, he found the poem he was seeking to write. By the time this issue of Books from Finland falls through your letterbox, it will (in the northern hemisphere) be spring. Welcome, readers old and new: the Books from Finland team is looking forward to offering you interesting minutes, or even hours, of reading good literature in the year to come.

Soila Lehtonen
Editor-in-Chief

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